Hidden Beauty Underneath Layers of Clothing
by Busby-Lizzy
Summary: France tells Britain how beautiful he truly is, on the most inappropriate times. FrancexBritain, yaoi, fluff, human and country names used


Hidden beauty underneath layers of clothing

Summary: France tells Britain how beautiful he truly is, on the most inappropriate times.

AN: It's been exactly a year since I posted my first fanfic here, and for the occasion I want to give you a gift. It's been a while since I've done anything related to Hetalia and I'm sorry for that. But on the bright side, I think I improved my writing quite a bit and it's all thanks to you. So I really want to thank everyone who has read/reviewed/faved/followed any of my stories… You are the best!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters; they all belong to their rightful owners.

It was 2am, and Arthur Kirkland couldn't sleep. He missed the comforting warmth of his lover's arms around him. France was away for a week on a business trip, and he would return on Friday.

So, with no lover to bother and nothing else to do, Arthur let his mind wonder off.

In his life Britain has done countless stupid things, falling in love with a Frenchman was one of them, but that day, centuries ago, was probably the worst decision of his life.

He was just so jealous of France, no scrap that. He was jealous of France's _hair_. How those blond curls shone gold in the sunlight, on the contrary of Arthur's blond mop that stayed dull. How the mid-length hair waved with the wind and Arthur's hair became one big mess

If he thinks back now, years later, he feels like he got what he deserved. Being envious of someone is a sin after all. But he couldn't deny Francis was a total twat at the time, being all smug about his beauty and his fashion. Arthur really loathed him at that time.

And not to speak about all the embarrassment he faced when letting France cut his hair. It was already bad enough but when he could feel Francis smirking behind his back he knew he would never live this down. Arthur tried to block all the childish, mocking comment and tried to think of how nice his hair would look after Francis was done.

A beautiful long shiny mane he would shock the world with. Yes, that would be wonderful. He closed his eyes in glee and with his big imagination he fantasied about taking over the world with his handsome looks.

And then it happened for the first time. Suddenly Arthur felt Francis' breath right next to his ear. "You look beautiful; you are going to like it for sure." France whispered and, to be a tease, blew in Arthur's ear. Arthur shivered, the gust of wind felt weird and unpleasant.

Arthur opened his eyes hesitantly, but his mouth dropped open the moment he checked the mirror. "You bloody wanker, you didn't change a thing!" he yelled and forgot all about the compliment France gave him mere seconds ago. Instead he chased France until he fell in a puddle. Covered in mud, dirt and humiliation, Arthur had to return home.

Arthur chuckled, how many times he tried to forget that accident, yet now it was one of his treasured memories. Only centuries later he found out what he felt for the Frenchman, however he decided to keep it silent for a while. And now they were a couple, Francis said it almost every day. _You're beautiful_.

It made Arthur's insides fill up with fluttering butterflies. They have dated for a long while, and Francis still got the same reaction out of him. And yes, you could blame that on the fact Arthur loves Francis were much. But there was something else, something that played a big part of it, timing.

If Francis would tell Arthur he's beautiful when they were lounging on the couch doing nothing but staying in each other's embrace then it wouldn't shock Arthur as much.

Francis had the worst or best timing in the world; it depended on how you looked at it. Why couldn't the older country be less unpredictable? To make it clearer, here is an example.

Arthur was sick with influenza, stuck in bed with a runny and stuffy nose, red cheeks from a high temperature, aching all over his body and… a Frenchman at his side. Said French fellow took great care of him. At that moment Arthur had finally proven that France doesn't only love his, dare he say it himself, good looks.

Arthur looked absolutely miserable, he hated being ill. But with his lover by his side the time spend doing nothing useful became bearable. And while going off in a childish tantrum about how much it hurt, France said it again.

"You're so beautiful." He sighed dreamily and gently pushed away the bangs sticking to Arthur's sweaty forehead. And for once Francis didn't frown when he checked the temperature. On the contrary he smirked and before he kissed Arthur on the cheek, he muttered: "Your temperature is rising because of me, isn't it?"

Arthur was glad karma did exist. The following week Francis was in his own bed with the flu.

And that's basically who France was; always a sneaky bastard waiting to use yet another pick-up line. Luckily for him, Arthur was a 'reasonable' boyfriend. But sometimes Francis did cross the line of sanity.

Arthur was showering, it was late at night and he was home alone. Yet, he strangely felt like someone… was watching him. And after a while he spent standing behind the shower curtain with the water pounding down on his nude form, he felt like he should do something. It could be a criminal for all he knew, and he was sure that during those five minutes he was already showering that someone sneezed.

Well, he was going to find out soon enough. Arthur turned the water spray off and opened the shower's curtain. He really wished he didn't have. Francis was sitting on the toilet, reading a newspaper.

Arthur quickly closed the curtain and turned around. Without knowing he held his hand to his heart, it was beating rapidly. "What are you doing here?" He squeaked and cleared his throat. Why did his voice sound so hoarse?

Francis merely chuckled in return. "Seriously, mon cher, don't be so shy." "Francis, dis you even look at me? Do you notice what state I'm in right now?" Arthur groaned and covered his face with his hands.

Never in his life didn't Francis make use of some good teasing material. "Let me guess, you're naked and wet."

"Francis! W-why do you make everything sound so perverted?" Arthur spluttered and didn't notice a hand coming from behind the curtain. And then suddenly cool air hit his back. Arthur whipped his head around and his emerald eyes met France's cerulean ones.

He gulped audibly and a lazy grin formed on Francis' lips. And there came those three words again. "You are beautiful." That only worsened Arthur's blush and he just wanted to stop France from embarrassing him.

"Stop lying," He ordered silently and looked down at his feet. Francis tsked and pulled his chin up. "Why are you so ashamed, your body is to die for." Francis smiled gentle and genuine.

Arthur bit his lower lip in thought. "Why are you always doing this, catching me off guard by telling me I'm beautiful?" He just wanted an answer.

"Why shouldn't I? It's only the truth and you are beautiful when you aren't trying to be, even now. Clothes can't change how you look, they can change your image and that influences how people see you. That's why I am doing this, at this moment, since nothing can distract me from devoting all my attention to your sexy body." Francis let his hands trail down to Arthur bare hips and he gave Arthur a while to let it all sink in.

"So…" Arthur started. "You'd rather have I walk around naked all day, instead of wearing clothes." Arthur looked at him with a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Exactly."

"But, Francis, promise me something first."

"What is it?"

"Do the same."

"_Oh_, okay… why don't I start with tonight?

Arthur flushed a light pink when he thought back on that night. And with many happy thoughts he was finally able to fall asleep peacefully.

Francis woke up with a start. He felt a tingling sensation coursing through his body, but blamed it on gin tonic he had yesterday. Only a few more hours and he could head back home to his British lover.

He pushed the blankets off his body and frowned. He didn't remember going to sleep naked; but maybe he had spontaneously undressed himself in his sleep though it was unlikely.

With not much to do and not to bore himself to death, Francis turned on the TV and zapped till he found the news channel. Maybe there was some news about Britain. A smile formed on his lips with the thought of his lover on his mind.

A reporter's voice blasted through the room, France winced and lowered the volume of the TV.

_Terror has struck the UK. The capital city is one chaos. People are confused and demand answers. In one night all clothes have disappeared into thin air. And neither can the people buy new clothes._

_According to sources, aliens have infiltrated Earth as humans, but the millions of aliens were still in need of clothes. We will now go over to one of the victims. _A curvy woman filled the TV screen and Francis knew enough.

_Aliens_, who were they kidding? Francis knew just who was responsible for this mess, and if he was correct than that person was now trying to find a reversal spell.

He decided to text him. _**I suppose you dreamt about me last night? I Love you -France**_

Not a second later he got a reply from is lover. _**You've seen the news? I guess it really is a big deal. I'm sorry, but I **_**can**_** blame this all on you… I love you too. - Britain.**_

_**I'll see you soon; hopefully you'll still be busy working on a solution. -France**_

_**Really, Francis? Is my body all you can ever think of? –Britain**_

_**No, I just love to admire your beauty underneath those layers of clothes. –France**_

_**Without the clothes blocking your vision, right? –Britain**_

**THE END**

I hope you liked reading this little one-shot, tell me what you thought with a review!


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